


Give me touch

by nxmorefear



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Dark Will, Dreams and Nightmares, Drunken Confessions, DrunkenKissesChallenge, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:15:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxmorefear/pseuds/nxmorefear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is going through a suffocating situation and is afraid of reaching a point of no return. Whisky is his only shield or at least he is convinced of it. Meanwhile, he is consumed by his own empathic condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Tócame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231447) by [nxmorefear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nxmorefear/pseuds/nxmorefear). 



> Written for #DrunkenKissesChallenge @HannibalCreative. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I have enjoyed writing. Thank you for reading my work! :-)
> 
> THANKS TO  hannibalsbattlebot  FOR BETA MY FIC!! I hope you enjoy it!!

The glass clinked loudly against the table when Will finished poisoning himself with its contents; it thundered in an empty, dark room where he pretended to be alone. His breath made the space seem alive, exhaling and inhaling rhythmically as if it were artificial respiration. Claustrophobia, a feeling of suffocation that increased as the poison spread through his bloodstream, until he lost his useless consciousness.

His fingers trembled like worms. His nervous system lost stability as eternal minutes passed in the room. The minutes were insufferable when his mind retained only a silhouette, a desire repressing the most solid pride. Sometimes his cloud-gray eyes stopped at the digital clock beside the bed, counting the minutes until he fell asleep with his mental shrieks. They rustled in shape of insects close to his ear, but now they had taken control of his body; they entered and left their tortuous mark through his arteries. Now he only stood, taking the appearance of an automaton.

Alcohol numbed him, transported him to a place he believed himself owner of his actions. His mind seemed a good place to fantasize about the shadow that was haunting him day after day, inviting him to perform actions which he quite possibly would regret.

Every day was a living hell. This hell burnt the reasons for his inhibition and his arguments slowly lost strength against the looming, antlered shadow. Darkness appeared in his most illicit nightmares, where it fed on his weak sanity; but it was not enough ... not enough. The creature lived not only in his head, now this being manifested itself as an effigy beside him, escorting the insect invaders.

Will drowned the distressing feeling with gulps of air, leaning against the wall in front of the mirror. Under the dim yellow light of the lamp, he quieted down when he saw himself reflected in the glass, alone. His true appearance made him smile with a warped gesture and he believed he was winning a losing battle. Sweat covered his entire body and an unpleasant, alcoholized smell was given off from the mouth, but that no longer repelled the beast for some reason. Maybe that's why he drowned in endless drops of whiskey. Maybe that's why he could not stop. Maybe that's why he could not take it anymore…

And maybe that's why he lost all reasoning when, facing the mirror, he could see his body had already surrendered to the touch of a dirty insect. In front of his eyes he was losing strength, his radiant and false victory over his senses, until he envisaged a invisible transformation; his inner voice disintegrated among millions of larvae, besides, all hope of preserving his fictional essence of morality.

His body deluged with the purest desire, Will left the room like a shadow. Around the darkness of the house, he adopted the behavior of his counterpart and became a predator. The corridor extended beneath his feet as a royal road to exemption, certain steps and a strange desire to understand the darkness that now branded his decisions for life. The chords of a brilliant composition for harpsichord guided him to his destiny, but the music was distorting, altering because of his deconstructed perception; it was a sign that Will was approaching to a hell coated of ostentatious elegance.

Among the four walls of a room richly embellished, the sound was interrupted when his drunken presence alerted the author of this splendid music. However the melody continued on his head, crushing any logical function that could be built by his former self.

“I thought you were resting," the voice said.

Will didn't answer. His lost glance at the floor and the light stagger of his body spoke for him. It attracted Hannibal like a fish to a hook; concern and compassion had become the best bait.

Lecter approached him as if seeing him in that state surprised him somehow, but no ... it wasn't the first time Will showed himself drunk in front of the man who filled him with insects. Will could see the disgust in his coppery eyes, something he hadn't enjoyed so far. He knew very well how unpleasant Hannibal was when he found the cheap, whisky-drunk smell and Will wondered if he was aware of how entertaining it felt to see the tribulation and disappointment in his eyes. The hint of a half smile was as sinister as his thought. Will made eye contact with Hannibal and slowly showed a countenance that reeled the concept Hannibal had of him. Will was proud to be now who provoked his feelings, who manipulated him and who played with the thin line of Hannibal's patience.

And before his reproaches left the psychiatrist's lips, the drunken one's sealed any word in his mouth. With his uncouth behavior, Will's trembling fingers clutched Hannibal's nape to prevent his unlikely escape. His lips brushed Hannibal's rudely, poisoning them; open mouth and tongue spilling the whiskey essence in his executioner, intoxicating him with his contained arousal, like a stream, like an eternal game of provocation. Will was looking for a stimulus, a reaction to grant him the opportunity to physically meet his metaphysical enemy.

Hannibal’s response soon appeared when he tried to correct Will’s behavior. The drunken kiss changed into a constant fight between two conflicting equals; however they did share the curiosity about the outcome of such an unexpected approach.

Will sighed against the unstoppable kiss as he placed Hannibal’s hand on his awakened and impatient member.

A clink was heard between two hot bodies as Hannibal undid Will's belt and slid his trousers through his legs.

He was ready for the next infighting.


	2. Fear

For a moment, Will lost consciousness. He fell into the soft surface of... he did not know; he did not care. His eyes, assailed by a kind of dreamlike haze, raised their attention and found the figure of the doctor over his body, manipulating him with expert and invasive hands. They were only two and yet he perceived hundreds of them going into his flesh. It made him feel small, victim of an unknown predator but so willingly he had been caught between Hannibal’s fingers. Clawed fingers, sinking into the pale skin to make it bleed. The crimson liquid flowed like threads and painted on his thighs Hannibal's desire. An untamed behavior, now reduced to the instincts of an animal next to his prey.

Paralyzed. On the padded surface, not knowing when he got there, nor when he began to feel pleasure in places where there should be pain. Graham issued a heavy sigh, forced out; his open eyes, crystalline as the reflecting mirror of his desire, watched the movement of Lecter's hands, how they connected with his awakened genitals. Hannibal’s fingers danced with Will’s member. Will didn't want to keep rhythm yet, but what he wanted was to be accompanied with pleasure. And Hannibal hoped to admire Will's interpretation of sex.

A feeling of dampness in his armpits and the young man felt fatigued despite his hands gripped firmly the sheets. A lack of self-control had no place in a body poised to explode. Under the devout look of the psychiatrist, dressed in a beautiful flannel suit, Will had lost all will; first due to the whiskey and now due to the inexplicable sexual desire. Was it important if it was that or simply an undeniable attraction to the Lithuanian's figure? An idea that plagued the unstable mind of Graham, but now he managed to accept it under the continuous rubbing of endless blood-stained fingers. His inner voice kept shouting, kept saying how much he wanted that man.

Soon Will felt a firm grip on the back of his knees and they were raised almost to the ceiling. His legs were opened for Hannibal, his impressive erection exposed and his narrow hole demanding to be plugged. A pleading look appeared on young man's face, delimited between his knees, and the loud sound of his panting should be the key to demonstrate he was completely at Hannibal’s mercy. He wanted it in this moment and in the following time... and forever.

Will separated his two legs more, almost to infinity, in a kind of desperate call to be penetrated. Hannibal's strong arms blocked the pale legs. His elegantly dressed body slowly lost his shape, as darkness filling the room; his figure absorbed it to become the being of Will's nightmares. Under shadow's hands, the young man trembled. He shivered and a his lips were seized by a groan when, without moving, he got the nice lunge finally going through his immobilized body. As the beautiful steel when it penetrates the skin and makes it bleed, Graham amused himself at the image of the shadow filling him with those holes... with the hope of feeling, feeling.

Alcohol numbed his limbs and senses, but for some reason he was seeing himself transported to a supernatural place, like hell, like the place where shadows belonged. Among the darkness, a distorted window to his left helped Will to see how the force of that being was increasing at the expense of Will’s integrity. But Will was still oblivious, wrapped in a strange pleasure that should be killing him. The figure's bestiality, its strength and energy flogged him, strangled him and stole his vitality... his humanity.

Infinite moans inundated the room with its attractive singing. His insatiable hole let the half-human phallus enter and leave, an eternal friction in which Will felt close and at the same time far away from the acme. His sweet ecstasy approached with slow steps, he felt it like a tingling inside the rectum. His genitals were shaken by violent thrusts, splattering some body fluids as misty rain.

Breathing hard and fearing drowning under the torturous penetrations, Graham experienced an unexpected change. Will was taken aback when he saw the antlered figure, its represented effigy, consuming his inside like a trap. From one moment to another, what he believed to be the liberation of desire became his cage, the trap where his soul had fallen forever. Orgasm disappeared from his goals and while the shadow lost its form in front of frightened eyes, from the inside of his body the first tenants began to emerge. As if he had become the home of an insect pest, Will watched in horror how infinite points roamed the surface of his body. All they came from the same place, his anus becoming the aperture of so horrible nightmare. The young man's cries echoed in the room, now with the only company of ants feeding on his fragile security.

"No no no..."

His body reacted with difficulty. Even thrashing, squirming like a worm on the mattress, he remained motionless and at the mercy of the unknown, at the mercy of what he had surrendered irresponsibly. Panic took control of his heart, his temperature and the sound of desperate screams. But suddenly the presence of insects disappeared from the body. And for a moment he thought he had freed from anguish.

Will opened his eyes in fear and his throat choking moans. The feeling of his heart leaving his chest was oppresive. His whole body was covered with sweat; he could feel it with his trembling fingers even on the sheets. Gradually he was gaining awareness of his surroundings and recovering the false comfort of being safe at home. Panting and ensuring that it had only been a nightmare, the young man looked at the clock over the nightstand to confirm he was awake. Yes... he was, he was. He sighed, took a deep breath even though he still felt the fear of his own dreams. He leaned on one side and a trace of his former self was felt in his erection and a revealing stain on the underwear. Shame and at the same time apprehension for having enjoyed that... for what his hands eventually did afterwards.

Oblivious and upset, Will spent the next moments purifying himself in the shower... and thinking. Thinking about the next session he had agreed with Dr Lecter that day.


	3. Acceptance

It was half past seven p.m. Outside the office of Dr Lecter it had begun to rain. Will arrived on time to the meeting, embellished with an elegant shirt and a felt coat. His purpose of impressing the psychiatrist was fulfilled when Hannibal opened the door and his bright, coppery eyes looked at Will's presence with admiration, even when his keen nose could have perceived the faint scent of alcohol... again.

"Good evening, Will."

"Good evening, Dr Lecter."

Lecter let the young man enter before closing the door of the office.

As always, Will's belongings were deposited on the couch, next to the large windows of the room. Will heard Hannibal's soft footsteps approaching him, but always keeping a safe distance... Always so meticulous and cautious.

Slowly, with an almost studied movement, the agent turned to face the doctor. With raised eyebrows, he watched Hannibal and decided to start the conversation.

"I've started having dreams lately... And I suspect they may be related to my therapy," Will said, feigning distraction while he was walking through the space of the room. He looked like he was almost ignoring Hannibal's presence, however Graham was only trying to feed his curiosity, and how far Hannibal would end up exposing himself to satisfy it.

"Is there something that you're not satisfied with?" Lecter asked politely, confused by Will's valuation.

Of course Hannibal wouldn't be so stupid to rush into insinuations; Will knew that perfectly.

Will, with his hands in his pockets, looked askance at the other man. Then he stopped in his footsteps and turned around to look Hannibal face to face again.

"No... no, Dr Lecter. It isn't the way you do your job." With a smile that was close to flirting, Will turned again and changed to indifference. He knew how irresistible he could appear to the psychiatrist when he behaved so confidently, almost taking charge of the situation. "In that regard, you do an excellent job."

The young man licked his lips before continuing speaking. A pause was necessary to keep Hannibal's curiosity expectant, anxious... Not even Will was planned to focus the conversation on his therapy.

"But it's clear that there are oddities about me which we haven't delved into deeply enough." Will lept still talking, pointing subtly the way of colloquium. His slow, sure footsteps led him to his seat. His hands caressed the back leather first before sitting down and relaxing.

His blue eyes watched as the doctor mimicked him a few seconds later, silent, but meditating an answer or a question about it.

"Is there something you want to talk about, Will? About your dreams perhaps?" Lecter asked once he unbuttoned his jacket to sat opposite the young man, crossing his legs.

Will nodded repeatedly and fixed his gaze deliberately on Hannibal’s features, tilting his head slightly. His words took another bit to be pronounced, this time in a slow, wicked whisper.

"There's something... A place in my mind where I don't have any control," Will expressed with weak voice. He felt his heart beating hard again, as it never had before other times in Lecter's company. "It consumes me in my dreams... in my nightmares... and... I like it."

Somehow, Will's words were heard as beautiful notes of music by the psychiatrist's ears. Hannibal interpreted them with the same ease with which Will managed to get his attention, narrowing until it became his unique focus. Will knew very well, perfectly, what that confession meant to Hannibal; Will had just throw a hook into the water and only had to wait.

The coppery gaze concentrated all its interest in the agent's silhouette and Will felt how his body was touched by invisible hands, like those of his dreams until lingering in inhospitable places. The prickling sensation again.

"What kind of dreams?"

Will gave a slow and gentle sigh. His eyes narrowed and his fingers gripped tightly to the armrests. His thoughts were difficult to control, as was Hannibal's attractive influence over his body, stealing his will and clarity.

"Doctor Lecter..." Will said quietly. He had some problems maintaining the same solemnity as his partner. He bit his lower lip in a vain attempt to follow the thread he had worked, however a small and unexpected detail betrayed his hidden intentions; A powerful erection that he didn't take the trouble to hide. It bulged out brazenly under his trousers in the presence of Hannibal's prying eyes. "It makes no sense to continue pretending... not anymore."

In view of this so unexpected fact, Lecter's shocked glance faded from his face and a faint, discreet smile kept to himself all intention. Will could read the fascination in his expression, the glory at the expense of Will's total dedication to his dreams.

And it was mutual. It was rewarded.

Faced with his inebriated,  cloud-gray eyes, Lecter approached slowly and kneeled at the space between Will's feet. His legs now embraced the Lithuanian's voluptuous body, receiving its warmth and desire. Lecter didn't delay lowering Will’s zipper, his fingers gripping the fabric and discovering the mouthwatering erection. A strong smell, but it attracted the best tasters. Hannibal watched the little dance of the phallus and his thin lips retained the glans affectionately.

All that he heard were the sighs of a man accepting himself.


End file.
